Tantric Healing With Rahi - Round 2

The second tantra session fell in the middle of the peak of my ovulation cycle. It hadn’t been intentional, it was just the next day Rahi and I were both available. I was alert and a little on edge with my own sexual arousal energy. I’ve mentioned how intense my periods are, but I haven’t gone into as much detail about the intensity of my ovulation. My body goes into hypersexual overdrive. Every glance is an opportunity, every touch could go further. I used to be able to get it out when I was stripping and getting paid to be touched by strangers. What was like nails on a chalkboard during PMS would shift to orgasmic opportunity. But it can also be incredibly distracting, and the source of emotional frustration whenever my sexual needs aren’t attended to. The flip side of arousal is depression.

On that day, I was in between arousal and depression. I’d been having relationship problems with one of my partners and felt my abandonment issues bubbling to the surface. I was contemplating ending that relationship because our interactions were leaving me feeling emotionally depleted. I didn’t think I had expectations for my time with Rahi, but in retrospect, I was bringing more into the room than I realized without verbalizing any of it.

Rahi: How are you?

It’s an innocuous question. Instead of being honest, I did what people tend to do in circumstances like this: I lied.

Me: I’m doing well. Excited for our practice today.

Rahi: Excellent. I’m happy to hear that. So, today I was planning to have us start again with the TRE and return to more NeuroAffective Touch. After that I want to introduce ten minutes of vaginal steaming. I know you mentioned that you have an IUD. Normally I have clients steam for longer, but because the steaming causes your cervix to open, I don’t want your IUD to shift or slip out of place. Then after the steaming we’ll move into Full Body Active Consent where I’ll invite your body to voice what it wants, and I’ll give you a few options for how we can move through that when we get there. Do you have any questions?

Me: I don’t think so.

Rahi: Oh, one more thing! How is your knee feeling today?

Me: It hasn’t started hurting yet.

Rahi: Did the spray do any good for you?

Me: I haven’t noticed any difference yet.

Rahi: Hmm. Let me get something else for you.

Rahi left the room and returned with a little bottle of something called X-Jow. I read the back. It was a menthol pain relieving salve. I rolled my yoga legging up and rubbed a bit of the salve on my knee. The cooling sensation was pleasant. I was hopeful it might do the trick.

Rahi: Let me know if that works for you. Oh, and I know I mentioned over the phone, but I do have to end things at five today. I have a previous engagement to attend to. But that shouldn’t affect anything, we should have plenty of time for all of our exercises today.

Me: Great.

Rahi: Whenever you’re ready, we can begin with the TRE.

Me: I’m ready.

We both stood. I knew the exercises at this point, and I felt springier than the last time. It was a combination of ovulation arousal coursing through my body and having not exercised yet. I wanted to do something strenuous, but instead I settled for the slow, contemplative TRE micro movements. Rahi and I chatted about my work with Soldiers of Pole, while I did gentle calf raises and one legged squats.

Me: We’re teaming up with the Black Sex Workers Collective for a fundraising event in a few days. It’s kinda a variety show. We’ll be dancing and speaking about important things. And all the money goes to BSWC. If you’re free, you should come and check out our work.

Rahi: I’d love that. Where will you be putting on the show?

Me: We’re doing it through Zoom. I can send you a link with the ticket info.

Rahi: Please do.

I laid on my back, feeling my legs tremor gently, again surprised by how my body responded. As someone who doesn’t believe in a lot of alternative medicine, it had taken a lot to suspend my disbelief and keep an open mind. But I liked Rahi enough to try. I didn’t think three sessions would be enough to do more than begin working through my sexual trauma, but I also didn’t know where else to launch my journey. I also appreciated his interest in understanding my world as a sex worker. A world not cloaked in new age language promising therapy and healing, but unabashedly “dirty” and vulnerable to the exacting hand of stigma. I knew the therapeutic element was central to Rahi’s practice, but in the end I still hoped to have an orgasm. How does one reconcile that addition within the realm of bodywork? I had a lot of questions but I knew the focus was on me, not on grilling Rahi. And I wanted to reciprocate the respect and openness he had extended to me.

Rahi: You’ve been tremoring for almost ten minutes now. Could you take a moment to tune into your body and, when you’re ready, tell me about any sensations you’re experiencing?

I shut my eyes to consider. I wasn’t very attuned to my sensations at that moment. My mind was jittery, bouncing from tangent to tangent, wondering how much time we’d spent on TRE and how much time we had left for everything else. The back of my head sank unhappily into the ground. I don’t like lying on my back. It’s doable during savasana, but aside from those restful moments, it leaves me feeling lightheaded. My neck felt stiff as well. My persistent will to busyness overruled any effects TRE might have offered me. But I focused my response on the bodily elements rather than the metanarrative of my own ping ponging skepticism.

Me: I feel… my abductors pulsing. The back of my head is a little uncomfortable. My neck could use some support. I think my head just needs a little elevation.

Rahi: Of course! I wish I’d known sooner, I would have gotten you something. Would you like to spend more time tremoring if I got you a pillow, or would you like to move on?

Me: I think I’d rather move on.

Rahi: Of course!

I sat up and rolled my head around, stretching my neck. I massaged the back of my head, hoping to alleviate the mushy feeling. I felt a little guilty, being unable to focus on Rahi’s techniques. Being a little tired might have helped the situation, I realized.

Rahi: I’m going to move out the massage table again, and whenever you’re ready, we can get into some NeuroAffective Touch. Please, take a moment and only move when you’re ready. Would you like any more kombucha?

Me: I’m fine, thank you. I will use your restroom again.

Rahi: Of course!

It was a warmer day than the last time. I sat in the bathroom, unsure what I wanted aside from to not be lying on my back anymore. My bladder was as impatient as my mind. Even as I peed, I felt like I would probably need another potty break shortly. I lifted my hair, fanning away a bit of perspiration collecting on the back of my neck. I knew I would yet again be lying still at length. The idea felt a bit torturous. I needed to cool my jets and resign myself to a bit of receptive passivity.

I returned to the therapy room and laid back on the massage table and we dove into the NeuroAffective Touch. I was a little disappointed that the pillows weren’t heated like the last time. Admittedly, it was a 90℉ day, and most people don’t want heat in the heat, but I’m a weird one. I don’t mind heat or a bit of perspiration. I wanted the warmth for my joints. My knees and wrists ached. Probably, other parts of my body were in pain, but the acuity of my knee and wrist pain overshadowed my other aches. This round, I didn’t have as much trouble asking for what I wanted. Maybe it was the difference in the temperament the ovulation portion of my cycle prompted. Maybe it was my familiarity with the situation which emboldened me. Maybe it was me simply hoping that if I went straight into it, we could speed forward to the more interesting portions of the session. I was ready for vaginal steaming and the Fully Body Active Consent which would finally involve me getting naked.

I’ve missed semi-public nudity. Not being able to work at the club has left my exhibitionism with no outlet. Even getting naked with my clients is unfulfilling. It feels more like I’m getting naked for my boyfriends, which is too domesticated to scratch that itch. Not that getting naked for a therapeutic semi-erotic massage was particularly exhibition-itch-scratching, but it was somewhat novel.

I made it through the NeuroAffective touch, hardly able to maintain a bit of stillness by the end. I wanted to check the clock more than anything. Every second felt precious. I wanted to immerse myself in accepting supportive touch and verbalizing my feelings, but I impatience prodded my experience. I’m accustomed to my life operating at breakneck speeds, demanding ever more of myself with unrelenting time constraints. It’s capitalism embedding itself in my internal clock. I’m always minutes away from another deadline. Even that day, I expected myself to work after therapy. I paused to breathe through my impatience.

Rahi: I need to prepare the herbs for the V steam in the kitchen, so take a moment. Can I get anything for you?

Me: Do you have anything to eat?

Rahi: Of course. I have fruits, some power bars, and probably some other things if you want to check it out with me?

I followed him to the kitchen and picked out a banana. Rahi handed me two power bars in addition to the modest banana. When we returned to the therapy room, he brought out two stools. Upon one he laid out vulva wipes, a tiny plate of oil, and a hand towel; the other would be my little throne for the V steam.

Rahi: I want you to apply the castor oil to your labia, that way it will absorb into your skin during the steaming and help you to better absorb the herbal steam. Castor oil is great for circulation and so many other fantastic things for your vaginal health. I’m going to give you some privacy for this, and when you’re ready, just sit on the stool and wrap this sheet around your waist.

Rahi handed me a blue sheet from the massage table, then left the room. I peeled my yoga pants off and sat on the V steam stool. I’ve sat with Cherry numerous times during her vaginal steaming sessions at the Korean spa, but I’d never done it myself. The cheapo side of me didn’t want to spend money on it. The skeptic in me doubted the validity of this sort of treatment. Why would my vulva need to be steamed? But at that moment, since it was included in the session, I decided to suspend my disbelief. The hot steam shocked my sensitive labia. It was initially unpleasant, but then, glutton that I am for pain, I began enjoying the almost overwhelming sensation. Maybe I conflate pain with something working. Maybe that’s fucked up.

After a minute, Rahi knocked on the door. I was wrapped in the sheet from the waist down, maintaining a level of decency. Rahi sat across from me and we continued chatting about this and that while the steam rose between my legs. Rahi was incredibly professional through the moment, keeping his calm steady tone, asking me questions about my joint pain.

Rahi: Have you tried any physical therapy for the injury?

Me: I haven’t. I’ve tried rehabbing it myself, practicing some mobility strengthening movements and general strength training, but nothing has worked so far. Mostly I just do yoga at this point, and wear knee pads.

Rahi: Yoga is wonderful for so many things. Have you found it helps at all?

Me: Not really, at least for the knee pain it doesn’t.

The sensation of the steam had begun to dissipate. The herbal mixture was cooling. I missed the intensity of the initial blast. I felt little droplets of condensation dripping from my lips. It was strange, having a very platonic conversation over vaginal steaming, but I realized there was nothing inherently sexual about medicinal vulva treatments. Just because my sexual organs were receiving attention, it didn’t mean it had anything to do with arousal. But I was also deep into my blurry ovulation mind. It was difficult to highbrow my way around the persistent feeling of arousal.

Rahi: It’s been about ten minutes. I think I said this before, but to reiterate, normally, I have people steam for thirty minutes, but because you have an IUD and I don’t want your cervix to dilate too much and cause the IUD placement to shift. Are you still getting any steam?

Me: Not really.

Rahi: That’s fine. I’m gonna say that we should stop here. I’m going to give you a moment to wipe yourself, and then if you could strip down and lie on the massage table, we can begin the Full Body Active Consent. Now this can go a few ways: one would be that you can verbally direct me to attend to what your body wants; another would be that I can intuitively move, listening to your body’s cues with intermittent verbal check ins; and finally, we could do some combination of the two. I want to emphasize that this is about attending to what your body is communicating, and if at any point you want to stop, we can stop. Also! I’m going to encourage your breath to move with the touch. Does all of that make sense?

Me: Yes.

Rahi: Which method would you prefer? If you need a moment to consider, or if you need me to repeat the options again, I can.

Me: I’d prefer for you to move intuitively.

Rahi: Great. I can definitely do that. I’m going to give you space, so whenever you’re ready, just lie on the table facing down, and cover yourself with this sheet, okay?

Me: Okay.

Rahi left the room. I took a moment to assess my steamed vulva. My thighs were wet with a mixture of the castor oil, precipitation, and my own discharge. I patted away the wetness, but not the oil. I didn’t mind the idea of castor oil on my pussy if it meant better circulation. Not that I’d ever considered circulation to be a problem, but why not? I stripped down and laid on my stomach with my face in the massage table hole. I felt liberated. Shortly later, Rahi knocked.

Rahi: May I come in?

Me: Yes!

I had to yell a little. My speaking voice is naturally quite soft. Whether this is nature or nurture, I’m not sure, but it was exacerbated by having my face tucked into the massage table hole. Rahi entered.

Rahi: Whenever you’re ready, I’ll begin by massaging your back and arms.

Me: I’m ready.

I appreciated the exercise of consent, but the problematic voice in my head was tired of being demanding. I knew I had set verbalizing my needs as the intention of our sessions. I could not fault Rahi for doing what I’d asked.

He rubbed his hands together and poured massage oil on my back. I hadn’t gotten a massage since before COVID-19 hit. I hadn’t realized how integral massages had become to my self-care routine, particularly as an athlete, but as soon as he began rubbing my shoulders, I realized how tense my body was. He got into my scalp and neck, creating space where I’d felt cramped. He moved into my hips and pushed my pelvis away while pulling my shoulder blades toward him. I felt length in my spine.

Rahi: I’m going to move down to your lower body.

Me: Okay.

Rahi covered my back with the sheet and lifted its coverage to expose my legs and glutes. For a moment, I considered whether or not I’d shaved my legs. It was a laughable consideration, I realized almost immediately. Why was I concerned about his perception when the entire session was about my wants and needs? How deeply ingrained in my psyche was the male gaze. I sighed, trying to push the thought away. My calves were particularly tight. I almost yelped as he began pressing into a knot. Meanwhile, I felt my vulva exposed. I enjoyed the slight breeze as it traveled between my legs, cooling against my wetness.

Rahi: I’m going to lift your tailbone. A lot of us hold a lot of tension in that region from sitting at computers all day. You might not, since you’re so active.

Me: I spend my day at a computer too.

Rahi reached his fingers into the area right above my ass crack and lifted the little nub of bone. It was an incredibly odd sensation. I felt my lower spine opening in a way it hadn’t before. Additionally, it was an intimate form of touch I hadn’t experienced. Sure, I’ve had my share of anal sex and anal stimulation, but nobody had tugged at my tailbone before. He released his grip, and began kneading my glutes, then switched to a feather-light touch, barely grazing my skin with his fingertips. He drew circles with his fingertips over my knee pits in a way that tickled and yet it was surprisingly pleasurable. I couldn’t stop myself from giggling.

Me: It’s one of my tickle spots.

Rahi: Is it unpleasant? Would you like me to stop?

Me: It’s actually nice. I normally don’t enjoy being tickled, but this time I don’t mind.

Rahi: It’s fantastic that you have so much sensation here. It’s one of the lesser known erogenous regions on the body.

I tried to still myself and enjoy the delicate touch. Rahi switched to using the blade of his arm, drawing broad strokes down my legs. He drew his arm between my glutes, allowing his forearm to stroke from my lips to my anus. It was an incredibly satisfying sensation. I felt a jolt of excitement. I hoped it was a sign of more to come. He repeated this motion a few more times, then paused.

Rahi: Is there anything else your body wants me to do before we move onto the other side?

I was excited to flip over and see where we might go, as much as I enjoyed the gentle anal stimulation from my current position.

Me: Could you massage my glutes a bit more?

Rahi: Of course!

I enjoyed the lower back release as he kneaded my butt cheeks. I hadn’t realized how much tension I was carrying. When he finished, he held the sheet up, creating a bit of a privacy barrier and waited for me to turn over, then covered my body again.

Rahi: Whenever you’re ready, I’m going to turn down the sheet so that I can begin with your upper body.

Me: I’m ready.

I could not have been more ready. I felt touch-starved. Even though my job involves being handled, it is almost never in the ways that I want. It is almost never focused on my pleasure. Rahi turned down the sheet, revealing my breasts. For a moment, I felt self-conscious again. It had been a while since a new person had seen me topless. I felt more exposed in a strange way. But shortly later, I acclimated and sank into his touch. He kneaded my breasts, and then my stomach. The breast massage was pleasant, but as he plied my stomach, I was struck by the incredible level of discomfort. It was painful, in a way I’m struggling to describe. Not a sharp pain, or an ache, but like overwhelming sensation. I didn’t know if there was something wrong with me, that the stomach massage was so intense that I was nearly breathless, but I was incredibly grateful when he moved on. He began tracing his fingertips over my torso again, and spun them around my nipples. I felt arousal coursing from my nipples down to my vulva. He grabbed my nipples and pinched, twisting them firmly. It toed the line between pleasure and pain, but pleasure won out. He pulled me upwards from my nipples. I felt my chest lifting, and then released as he let go of his grip. He repeated the motion and encouraged me to inhale as he pulled me by my nipples, and exhale as he released. He continued massaging my shoulders and pectoral muscles, then covered my upper torso with the sheet.

Rahi: Whenever you’re ready, I’ll begin with your lower body.

I felt all of the pinpricks of sensitivity, the anticipation of being on the edge of an orgasm.

Me: I’m ready.

Rahi lifted the sheet and exposed my legs. My pubis mons was still slightly covered. He massaged my thighs and traced his feathery touch over my kneecaps and feet. I bathed in the variety of pleasant sensations, feeling my arousal building. And yet, at the back of my mind, I kept wondering about the time. The light outside had changed. I could tell it was getting late. As much as I enjoyed every moment of what we were exploring, I couldn’t help but feel the gnawing dread that our time would soon reach an end. Rahi lifted the blanket and began kneading my pelvic region, digging his knuckles into muscle pockets in my inner thighs. I wanted him to use the blade of his arm the way he had between my glutes but this time between my labia. I began numbing the rest of my lower body and focusing all of my attention to my vulva. The desire was overwhelming.

Then, my worst fears came to fruition.

Rahi: We have about five more minutes left before we need to bring our session to a close. Is there anything else that your body needs before we conclude today?

Everything. There was so much more that I needed than five minutes could afford. I felt tears welling in my eyes. I couldn’t believe myself. I felt a frustrating empathy for my shitty clients who throw fits about “blue balls”. The tables had turned and I was the one blue balled, and even more embarrassingly, on the verge of tears about it. There was nothing to be done. Rahi had a previous engagement, and I couldn’t change that. I sighed, attempting to resign myself to the situation, and reabsorb the tears in my eyes.

Me: No, I’m fine.

Rahi: Okay. I’ll give you a few minutes. There’s a towel on the couch to remove the massage oil. I’ll check in on you in a bit.

Rahi left the room, and I sat up. My nipples were so hard they could cut glass. I didn’t know how I’d be able to recover myself. I half considered masturbating quickly, but decided that would be absolute insanity. I felt utterly abandoned. The sadness of my internal loneliness shook me. It wasn’t Rahi’s fault. It was everything. It was the weight of my livelihood forcing me to provide so much while receiving so little; it was the rift I felt between myself and my partner; it was the latest moment of my pleasure feeling utterly neglected. I knew I was projecting a lot into that moment. I tried to compose myself, because I didn’t want to make Rahi feel bad when he had been completely wonderful. I felt childish. Why had I gotten so wound up? Why couldn’t I just be reasonable?

I dressed and packed my bag. I met Rahi in the kitchen. He turned and saw my face and gave me a concerned expression.

Rahi: What’s going on? You look distressed.

I struggled to choke out a response.

Me: It’s okay. It’s nothing.

Rahi: May I hug you?

Me: Sure.

He hugged me, and suddenly I was crying. I felt betrayed by my own emotions and yet simultaneously I knew it was what I needed. I sobbed into Rahi’s shoulder, enjoying the way it shook my body. I felt at least marginally less bottled up. After a moment, I decided it was time to stop.I had gotten a bit of my internal turmoil out.

Rahi: I’m so sorry that you are feeling this way. Can you articulate at all what’s going on?

Again, I felt incredibly petty and childish. What was wrong with me? I felt embarrassed even thinking about the reality that I was crying over a missed orgasm. There was no dignified way to express what was going on, and yet the polite Midwesterner tried to step around what I meant.

Me: I just had hoped we would… go further.

Rahi’s eyebrows knit together.

Rahi: I’m so sorry, I should have explained this better. That was never going to be part of this session. I don’t usually do pelvic work until the third session. I’m so sorry. Normally I don’t have a time crunch like this, and I would be open to following anything your body might be wanting, but today I couldn’t. I’m so sorry that your body did not get what it needed.

Me: No, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of this. It’s a lot of things. It’s not your fault. I should have asked.

Rahi: Next time, I’ll make sure we have plenty of time. I promise.

I couldn’t help but feel a sense of wariness pass over me. I felt wounded, even if it had been completely unintentional. I needed to be alone.

Me: Okay.

Rahi: Again, I’m so sorry. Please take care. I’ll be in touch with you soon.

I put on my shoes and covered my face with my mask. I was grateful to have a way to hide. I could cry and remain anonymous. I continued sniffling as I walked to my car, and sat for a moment, absorbing the heat. In lieu of human warmth, my car was there to hold me.

I felt completely alone.